Singing to Sammy
by Screwdriversarecool
Summary: Sam's sick, Dean has to take care him him, and Sam asks Dean the most peculiar question. "Can you sing?" Kid!Chester and Teen!Chester no spoilers. Dean's thirteen and Sam's nine. I do not own Supernatural, Sam and Dean, or the song.


_Dean Winchester to the office Dean Winchester_

Dean snapped his head up from the textbook he was pretending to read. All eyes in the class turned to him, and Dean knew what they were all thinking. _He's only been here a day. What trouble could he have gotten into already? _To be entirely honest, Dean was thinking along the same lines.

Dean slid out of his desk and made his way out of the classroom. He absentmindedly kicked a disregarded empty pop can. What _had _he done? Dean racked his brains trying to think of something. Well, he had bad-mouthed his teacher a few times. Other than that, he couldn't think of anything. And that wasn't even worth a trip down to the office. Besides, she had totally deserved it.

He couldn't help but peak in Sam's class when he walked past it. With a jolt, he realized that Sam wasn't there. Dean desperately scanned his eyes over the room again. No, Sam definitely was not in the room. Was the little bugger skipping? No. Sam Winchester wasn't the brother that skipped class. That had always been Dean. So where was he?

He was probably jumping to conclusions. Sam was probably in the bathroom or something. Yeah, that was it. All the same, he couldn't help but pick up his pace.

When he reached the office, the very first thing he noticed was Sam sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room. He had fallen to sleep, so his head was resting against the wall. His eyes were shut tight, and his long arms seemed to be wrapped around himself, so it looked like he was hugging himself.

"Sam!" Dean quickly ran to his little brother, ignoring the secretaries. Sam stirred, but did not wake. He pushed Sam's bangs back and placed a hand on his forehead. "Aw, Sammy." Dean murmured, removing his hand. His forehead was burning. Even now he could see that his face was flushed, and he had cold sweat.

"He's got a fever of 103," Nurse Tolle said. Dean didn't even notice her come in, and to be honest he had barely even heard her. His mind was on Sammy. "His teacher sent him down here. He kept asking for you, and fell asleep just before you got here."

Now Dean wished he had gotten here quicker. "Sammy," Dean whispered, shaking him slightly. Sam opened his eyes, but only slightly. "Dean?" Sam said in a quiet, croaky voice. Dean forced a smile. "Hey Sammy. Jesus, you look awful." Dean commented.

"Thanks. So do you." Sam said sarcastically, still in a quiet voice. That was Sam for you, he could be near death and would still be able to spit out a sarcastic comment.

"I suggest that you take him to a doctor." Nurse Tolle interrupted.

"No." Sam groaned. "I'm fine." Dean smiled at that. His kid brother would do anything in order not to go to the doctor's. Still, if Sam didn't want to go Dean wouldn't make him. "No." Dean agreed, looking up at Nurse Tolle.

"Well do you at least have someone you can call-"

"No." Sam and Dean interrupted at the same time. They were clearly both thinking the same thing. Dad didn't need to be bothered with this. "Our dad's on a business trip." Dean said quickly as a very brief explanation. "I'll just take Sammy here home," for a second Dean was going to help Sam out of the chair, but he quickly realized that Sam was probably too weak to walk. So instead he picked Sam up, almost cradling him. This wasn't hard, for even though Sam was tall and gangly, he was very light. "Dean," Sam protested weakly, his arm falling helplessly to the side.

"Oh stop being a baby. You're too weak to walk."

After many arguments, threats –mostly from Dean-, and questions –those were mostly from Nurse Tolle- Dean eventually got fed up and stormed out of the building. Sam had fallen asleep again sometime on the way back to their tiny motel room. Dean had put Sam in his bed, tucked Sam in, and put a cold towel on his forehead to counterbalance the heat. Now Dean was sitting at the small table, tapping a seemingly random rhythm.

He tried keeping his mind on something, anything, besides Sam. But somehow his mind always managed to get back to the tall and gangly figure curled up on his bed. Why did Sam have to get sick? Sam was the healthy one, it should have been Dean who got sick. But then again, it always had been Sam who had the worst immune system possible.

"Dean?" The voice was quiet, and Dean almost missed it. "Hey." Dean said, going to sit beside Sam on the bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Awful." Sam croaked. Dean gave Sam a pitying glance, and ran a hand through Sam's hair. "I know Sammy," Dean muttered. "I know. Just try and sleep, okay?" Maybe, just maybe, Sam would be able to sleep through it.

"Can't," Sam said quietly. "It hurts."

"What hurts, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"M'head." Sam answered, and Dean groaned slightly. He quickly remembered that they didn't have any medicine. They had ran out the last time Sam had been sick. They had always meant to get more, but never got around to it.

"Yeah, I bet it does." Dean said. "Just try, okay?"

Sam gave a small nod, but then asked the most peculiar question. "Can you sing?" It was quiet, not even a whisper, but Dean still heard it. It was a simple question really, but one that still struck out as odd. It wasn't one that you would expect him to ask, especially towards Dean.

"Sing what?" Dean asked with a sigh, giving in. He would do anything for his brother, and if he wanted him to sing… well… he would sing.

"Anything." Sam answered. Dean thought a moment, racking his head for a good song. He knew lots of songs, yes, but none that seemed to suit this situation. And then it came to him.

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember, to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better_

_Hey Jude, don't be afraid_

_You were made to go out and get her_

_The minute you let her under your skin_

_Then you begin to make it better_

_And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain_

_Don't carry the world upon your shoulders_

_For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool_

_By making his world a little colder_

_Na na na, na na, na na na na_

_Hey Jude, don't let me down_

_You have found her, now go and get her_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better_

_So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin_

_You're waiting for someone to perform with_

_And don't you know that it's just you? Hey Jude, you'll do_

_The movement you need is on your shoulder_

_Na na na, na na, na na na na, yeah_

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember to let her under your skin_

_Then you begin to make it better_

_Better, better, better, better, better, oh!_

_Naaaa na na, na-na na na_

_Na-na na na, hey Jude_

Dean finished the song in a low, quiet voice. His singing wasn't the best- far from it- but it seemed to do the trick. Sam was fast asleep again by the time Dean was finished. Dean smiled at his little brother. Sure, he was a pain in the ass most of the time, but it was moments like this where Dean realized just how much his little brother meant to him.

* * *

**So, what'dya think? Reviews are much appreciated. Prompts are also welcome, but they must be either Kid!Chester or Teen!Chester, or Jess/Sam Stanford era. For that review, I changed the temperature. You're totally right, I didn't realize that before, oops.**


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